


Story of Hope

by hypersilver



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Deceit's kinda just there for a sec, Fluff and Angst, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Roman's just a fool, it's like normal to angst to fluff to angst again, rated for mild language, there's abandonment but it wasn't totally intentional, very secondary Anxceit but it's not important, you better be ready to have your heart ripped from your chest hooo boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 03:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20575910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypersilver/pseuds/hypersilver
Summary: Eight years ago, Virgil had garnered enough courage to propose to Roman after a long and happy six-year relationship. Roman told him he’d come back to him with an answer by sunrise and then left without a goodbye. Eventually, Virgil lost hope. Now, Roman has finally decided to come back with his answer.





	Story of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the scene "Story of Hope" from my favorite play, Almost, Maine. As such, this takes place in the small, northeastern sort-of-town of Almost. I've included some doodles I made of stuff from the story at the end for funsies. Also, btw, this is my first Sanders Sides fic so uhhhh yeet. Enjoy ;)

Roman stepped out of the Uber he’d been confined in for an excruciating two and a half hours with a huff, thanking the driver and shutting the door behind him. The crunch of snow beneath his feet, once familiar, felt foreign to him. He shifted his weight a few times, almost marveling at the way the layers upon layers of frozen precipitation compressed with pressure. The soft noise it made brought a wave of nostalgia he didn’t realize he needed.

He began to walk. The house was always a bitch to get to, though that’s just how things were in the disorganized, isolated town he’d spent most of his life in. A different part of his life, that was. One he’d taken for granted and abandoned. One he’d forgotten about. One he desperately wanted back.

Dragging a large suitcase with one hand and gripping the strap of an equally-cumbersome duffel bag he’d slung over a shoulder and across his chest, Roman let his eyes wander about the winter landscape as he trudged on. Tall pine trees lined the path, seemingly looking down upon him as if to judge him. _ Where have you been? _ they seemed to question accusingly. _ What are you doing back? Why now? _ And, perhaps worst of all: _ Do you really think he’ll even want to see you after all this time? _

Roman ignored them. He had hope. Surely things would turn out alright. Why wouldn’t they? This, returning to his hometown and returning to _ him _ was all he’d been able to think about for the past year, and he’d fantasized enough about how this would go to be assured that everything would be just fine. Of course, he didn’t expect it to go completely smoothly. He wasn’t that clueless, especially when it came to his own past mistakes. But no matter what, he knew that everything would be fine. He’d get the fairytale ending he could so perfectly envision in his mind. He could feel it.

His pace quickened when the steep-roofed residence began to materialize ahead. He ignored the snow finding its way into his boots and the frigid air stinging his face, solely focused on reaching the house and whom he hoped he’d find there. Roman’s fingers trembled a bit, though it wasn’t clear why. Was it the frosty air he was no longer used to? Was it exhaustion from traveling for hours by plane, by car, and now on foot? Was it the subconscious, creeping fear that maybe things wouldn’t go the way he wanted them to? Regardless of what it truly was, Roman liked to think that it was excitement.

The little house sat shadowed by a few towering pine trees, icicles hanging from the edges of the roof like crystalline teeth. There was no car in the snow-sheeted driveway, but the flickering light by the door told Roman that perhaps it was safely stowed in the nearby garage. Glancing to the left, he could see a dim, yellowish glow emanating from the window he knew belonged to the only bedroom in the house. Roman smiled, momentarily reminiscing on late nights he’d spent cuddled up under piles of blankets in there, talking about everything and nothing as a movie would play idly on the television in the corner of the room. Dancing cinnamon candles. Soft laughter. Hesitant touches. Gentle kisses.

Roman drew in a deep breath and stopped for a moment, setting his suitcase back to stand upright on the ground and dropping the duffel on top of it. His steps sounded hollow up the wooden steps and across the shaded deck towards the front door. He stood there staring at his final obstacle. All he had to do was knock. With a breath shakier than he was prepared for, Roman pulled off the cheap red gloves he’d picked up at the airport hours ago, shoved them into his pockets, and raised one fist. It hovered there, millimeters from touching the smooth, black wooden door. _ You can do this, Roman. You journeyed all this way for him. You’re awesome. You can do this. This is what you’ve been waiting for. _ Roman pounded a firm, confident knock before pulling away and stepping back. Quickly he turned away to fix his hair—how could have he forgotten to do this before knocking? — and brush some snow off of his jacket. He heard the sound of the doorknob turning and the door creaking open before he could finish.

Impulsively, Roman immediately shot off into a ramble. “I know this won’t be easy, and I understand it must have been so very...difficult dealing with me up and leaving so suddenly. But I’m here now. I’m here. I was… I was out there, all alone in the world. Without you. I left to find my place, to do something great, to… to _ be _ someone! I was going to be the man I always envisioned myself to be, fulfilling my hopes and dreams in LA, signing autographs, getting recognized in grocery stores—everything I’ve fantasized about since preschool! But, unfortunately… Let’s just say LA isn’t the home I used to hope it would become. Eight years of rejection after rejection, tiny background roles, quiet shows in small local theaters, and nothing to come home to but a dirty apartment with a broken refrigerator. It was not the life of a star!

“And the worst part? Lord almighty and the stars above, the _ worst _ part was that you weren’t there with me. Out of nowhere, one day, sitting alone on my balcony, looking out at the… unsightly apartment building across the way, I wondered if I truly did have a place in this world. If my life even meant anything. And I realized that I did, I did have a place in this world, and that such a place was with you. So… so I packed all I could carry, booked a flight to Bangor, called an Uber to drive me the rest of the way to Almost—over $200 for the Uber alone, can you believe it?—and then walked from the main road here. I just had to come see you. Thank god you’re—”

Roman finally reached a point of calm where he could finally focus on the man standing in the doorway. It… _ It wasn’t him_. “O-Oh. You’re not… I thought… I…” He shut his mouth and looked around, throwing a frantic glance at the house number nailed to the log siding before his eyes darted over to the garage, then to the shed across the yard, then to the bit of the house interior he could see past the door, then back to the man in front of him. “This is… this is the house.I—I’m so sorry.” One more look around before his gaze reluctantly settled on the man again.

The man, clumsily wrapped in a yellow robe a bit too long for him, stared back at Roman with half-hooded eyes and a raised brow. His chestnut hair was cut short and neat, brushed back and out of his face save for a single lock that dangled in front of his eyes. His face was covered in light freckles, and his cheeks were dusted red with the exposure to the cold. He stood with impeccable posture in spite of otherwise appearing to have been just about ready to go to sleep and had his hands shoved into the pockets of the robe. He didn’t speak, though leaned in a bit as if to ask, “What are you here for?”

Roman eventually broke past his startled sputtering and profuse apologies to speak clearly once more. “Is—I’m looking for Virgil Douglas. Is there a Virgil Douglas here? Or around here? Or anywhere in Almost?”

“You're looking for—”

“Virgil Douglas,” Roman repeated, running a shaking hand through his disheveled waves. “He lives here. Or—he should.” Eyes wide, he studied the man’s face for any sign of recognition, but the other only continued to stare as if Roman were a madman. “So… he doesn’t anymore. I… How could I be so stupid?” He turned away, absentmindedly looking off in the direction of his luggage alone in the middle of the snow before murmuring under his breath. “I just… thought he’d be here. He told me he’d always be here.”

“I—”

“Oh! Do you know him?” Roman snapped back to the man, vigor returning to him at the thought that perhaps Virgil _was _ still here, only elsewhere in town. And, well, if Virgil was the previous owner of the house, this man was bound to have met him at some point, yes? Maybe he’s had to resend incorrectly addressed mail before? Or something like that, surely. “I’m sure you’ve seen him. Looks like he never left his middle school emo phase. Heh, I used to make fun of him for that. Pale foundation, black eyeshadow. Hair always in his eyes, dyed dark, almost black with a bit of purple. I’m sure he’d still have it dyed that way, even now. Often wears a hoodie or sweatshirt of some sort, and black jeans, always. About this tall—he’d be taller if he ever stopped slouching, but that stubborn bastard never would have stopped even if I realigned his spine. And, believe me, we used to do many things together that might as well— _ ahem_. Anyway. He never quite smiles, but when he does… ugh, those dimples. And his laugh! Getting him to laugh was… everything. He’d always—oh, I’m getting off track. So, do you know him?”

“Well—”

“Actually, don’t answer that, it’s stupid.” Roman shook his head and breathed a deep sigh. “How hypocritical of me. I used to hate when people would ask me if I knew everyone here, or if we were all related, or if we knew what technology was, or if it was lonely way out here, or any other small-rural-town stereotype you could think of. Here I am doing the same to you. And most of those stereotypes aren’t even true! I mean, I was far less lonely here than I was in LA. Not—Not that I was _ alone_, of course! I had plenty of friends, went to plenty of parties, the works, you know? I was busy, very busy. People and places and things, all the time.”

“That’s—”

Roman interrupted the man yet again, this time with a heavy, noisy groan as he slumped onto the little bench set against the exterior wall of the house. “He bought this house when his dad remarried and moved out. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to stay.” He rubbed his eyes and rested his elbows on his knees, staring out into the shroud of trees. Involuntarily, he sniffled but quickly recovered by clearing his throat loudly. His chest felt heavy as his next words came without a second thought. “I didn’t stay. I damn should’ve. Maybe he’d still be here… I came all this way.”

There was a long pause before the man in the doorway shuffled his way over to the bench and slowly lowered himself beside Roman. “An Uber from Bangor, you said?”

Roman gave a small nod, eyes still staring into space. “And a flight from Los Angeles before that. I know it sounds ridiculous, I know. I… guess I wasn’t thinking. I never do, it seems. It’s just… mistake after mistake.”

“All that time and money for…?”

Roman smiled to himself with a soft hum, shaking his head a little. “He asked me a question years ago. A… a very important question. One that ideally receives an answer right away. One that must have taken him months to muster up the courage for. One you just… don’t run away from. But I did. I left him hanging, and that’s not something you do to a person who asks that sort of question unless you’re the vilest, most wicked monster out there, no matter what your answer is. He… He asked me to marry him. And I never gave him an answer.”

“...Wow.”

“Yeah, so,” Roman chuckled, messing with his hair again, “that’s why I came. I didn’t _ have _an answer back then, and I thought, well, better late than never, right? But I suppose late for me is just as good as never.”

Another moment of silence swirled around the two of them. Roman spent more time lamenting in his mind, berating himself for not returning sooner, wishing he could turn back the clock and keep his past self from ever even considering leaving Almost. He nearly forgot where he was until the man spoke up again. “Why… _ didn’t _ you have an answer back then?”

“Well, I…” Roman trailed off, squinting into the darkness as if to squint back in time. Why didn’t he? It was so long ago, and he’s changed so much, he could hardly recall right away. “We’d just about graduated college. I had an opportunity to move to LA and truly begin working on my dreams to _ be someone_, you know? I could go off into the world, finally, and make myself known, do wonderful things, fulfill my potential. It’s something I’d wanted since… since forever. And the _ night _ before I’m about to leave, just as I’m headed out the door of his house, this house, he _ proposes _ to me, right on this porch! I mean, really, with my future planned and a flight in the morning, what was I supposed to say?! You can’t blame me, right?”

“I don’t know…”

“For perhaps the first time in my life, I was at a complete loss for words, and so I promised him I’d think about it, that I’d sleep on it, and that I’d come back by sunrise with an answer. And I thought about it all night without a wink of sleep. I kept thinking about it as I got ready, as I loaded my luggage into a taxi, as I drove to the airport, as I walked through crowds of busy people, and before I knew it… I was on the plane. I didn’t come back with an answer… ever.” Roman buried his head in his hands and huffed.

“Isn’t that… an answer?”

Roman’s head shot up and in an instant, he was on his feet again. “N-No! No! That’s not—it wasn’t—I just didn’t know what to say, it wasn’t a yes or a no, and I had a flight, and I was going to pursue fame and wonder and—and that’s not an answer! And he probably thought I’d say yes, and I just—”

“Well, yeah, no one’s gonna ask that question expecting a _ no_.”

There was a particular degree of bitterness in those words that for a moment caused Roman to lose his train of thought before he found it again. “Look, I… I know.” He sat down again. “I just needed to give him my answer. And an apology. I just thought he ought to know that I’ve realized now that what I did was awful and that I know that you can’t do something like that to someone you love like the stars love the sky. And maybe, I thought, he would take me back.”

“You loved him?”

Roman looked at the man, mouth slightly agape and brows furrowed together. “Of course I did. I told him every day, and I meant it more and more with every breath I took to say it. I would have moved continents and drained oceans for him. I still would. When I left… I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I was being selfish.” He stood again and stepped to the rail guarding the porch, where he settled his arms and cradled his chin in one palm. “I crushed his hopes in order to pursue what I thought were my own.”

The man appeared beside him again, likewise leaning on the wooden guard and allowing his hands to dangle over the side. Roman just barely caught him shake his head. “I don’t think you crushed his hopes. Crushing someone’s hopes… It’s quick. Painful, yeah, but quick. We all get our hopes crushed. It’s part of life. You just gotta be naive and stupid, and just about everybody is in one way or another. No, you didn’t crush his hopes. You didn’t say no to him. You just… didn’t give him an answer at all. You left him with his hopes and never came back. That’s different. His hopes, they were still there, like a heavy weight hung by a strong rubber band. Slowly, gradually that band stretched, but it never gave out right away. It tried its damndest to keep that weight off the ground. Its limits were pushed over time, and, yeah, it hurt. A lot. Every single day it was forced to keep holding on, more and more. Each passing minute posed the question of whether or not it was time for that band to snap. And eventually, it did, but not before the drawn-out agony that came before. And once it snapped, well, it was broken. Useless. _ Hopeless_.”

Roman felt his nails dig deeper and deeper into his skin as he listened to the man spoke. In any other case, he would have questioned what the hell this guy was talking about, who the hell he thought he was, where the hell he found the audacity to say things like this to him, but… all Roman could think about was how right he was. The confidence he’d come here with was shattered by now, leaving him to feel uncomfortably open, as if this stranger could pry right into the most suppressed parts of his mind. Roman felt naked, vulnerable, wrong.

“Right…” was all Roman could mutter. After a brief pause and a glance over to the suitcase and bag he’d neglected out in the snow, he straightened his back and began to walk towards the edge of the porch. “Well, thanks. For whatever, I suppose. I should take my leave.” He slung the duffel over his shoulder and curled a freezing hand around the handle of his suitcase. “Apologies again for bothering you. Goodnight.”

“Goodbye, Roman.”

Roman began to walk off, the feeling of defeat finally fully descending upon his shoulders. One step, and another, before—

“Wait a minute,” Roman breathed, stopping dead in his tracks and spinning around on his heels. He called out to the man still standing on the porch looking out at him. “How did you know my name?” Slowly, Roman walked towards the house again, leaving his suitcase in the snow where he’d stopped.

The man stared back without so much as a flinch, lips pressed together ever so slightly. When Roman was close enough to see the pupils of his eyes, the man ran a hand through his hair and shook his head a bit so it all fell in front of his face, over one eye. He relaxed, allowing his shoulders to fall and his posture to cave a little. The corners of his lips tugged upwards into a very small smile with an incredibly familiar sense of awkwardness and insecurity behind it. “Hey.”

Eons passed before Roman could force a sound past his lips. “Virgil?” The man’s smile grew into something Roman had longed to see for forever, and the sheer sight of such a marvel gave him the nudge he needed to drop his duffel in the snow and run right up to give him a hug. “Virgil! You’re so—”

“I know.”

“You’re so—”

“I know.”

“You’re so—”

“I _ know_.”

“—not… _ you_.”

The two pulled away from the hug, grinning at each other. “I know,” Virgil repeated, his smile slowly fading. “I… lost a lot of hope. And when that rubber band snapped, well… I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror without thinking about you. I had to change myself. Change everything. Move on. I didn’t want to, but… I’d convinced myself I’d never see you again. So, with some help, I changed and found my way again.”

Roman paused, wondering how he could have been so clueless as to fail to even recognize the man he dated for six long years. “Virgil… I’m… Virgil, I’m so, so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to—I’m so fucking sorry, Virge, I just—”

“Shh. It’s fine. Really. Come here.” Virgil stepped a few paces back and gestured for Roman to stand next to him by the rail. “Look up there.” He pointed at the sky, eyes following through.

“Okay.” Roman followed him, stopping at his side and looking up. “But I don’t see how looking at the—”

“Roman, please. Just—please stop talking for one second,” Virgil sighed. “Just look up. What do you see?”

“Stars. The moon.”

“Any sun?”

“...No. Virge, what are you—”

“That means you’re early.”

Roman bit the inside of his cheek and diverted his gaze back to Virgil’s face, brows raised in confusion. “What do you—”

Virgil chuckled, rolling his eyes and sliding closer to Roman until their arms touched. He nudged him. “You’re early, doofus. You promised me you’d be back before the sun came up, right? Sunrise isn’t for another several hours. You’re early.”

A smile slowly returned to Roman’s face as he realized what he meant. “I guess you're right. Pssh, who knew your emo ass was capable of the kind of poetic shit I’d normally come up with?” he scoffed, playfully nudging Virgil back with his elbow.

“Who else was supposed to take over for your stupid bullshit once you left?” Virgil joked. With only a bit of shaky hesitation, he gently placed one hand on Roman’s arm. “So… a flight from LA and an Uber from Bangor, huh?”

“My bank account is _suffering_,” Roman laughed, “but it was all for you.”

“God, you’re an idiot.” Virgil laughed along with him, eventually finding himself with both his arms wrapped around Roman’s. “And all that trouble just to finally tell me—”

“Vee? You’re still at the door? Who the hell’s out there?” came a voice from inside the house.

Virgil immediately recoiled from Roman, putting more than an arm’s length between them with a single step backward. His hands buried themselves deep into the robe pockets again. He straightened up but cast his eyes downwards, avoiding eye contact with Roman. “No one, Ethan! Just some guy asking for directions! I’ll be in bed in a minute!” He looked up to meet Roman’s eyes—dull and lifeless, yet glossy with tears ready to spill over. Balling his fingers into fists, Virgil dared himself to speak again. “I…”

“What?” Roman almost spat. His voice came from the very back of his throat, weak and shaky, just barely there.

“I hope you find it, Roman. Your… Your purpose, you place, your home. Where you belong. I really hope you do. Goodbye.”

Roman could hardly choke out a response before Virgil stepped back inside and shut the door. “Goodbye, Virgil.” He stumbled back off the porch to pick up his duffel and grab his suitcase. He looked over his shoulder at the house, eyes finding the yellowish lit window again. Just as the light inside shut off, and before he could push himself to start walking back to the street, he murmured the answer he’d journeyed miles upon miles to give.

“Yes.”


End file.
